


Spin Madly On

by stardustloves



Series: Jon/Sansa Works [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, POV Multiple, Really Short Chapters (Sorry)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustloves/pseuds/stardustloves
Summary: Sansa wakes in a life that is not her own and yet is.





	1. Sansa I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing anything that isn't modern, so if I make any mistakes of using words they wouldn't have, I apologize. And feel free to point them out if you'd like to. 
> 
> I know many a time travel fic for this fandom has been written, but I was wondering what it would be like if someone simply went into another universe. One where the events that we know of never came to pass.
> 
> I'm basing this on show canon, as I've only just started reading the books.

Sansa woke before daybreak, the terrors of her past rearing their ugly heads and attempting to choke her while she slept. She gulped in the cold, northern air, letting it ground her. After a moment, she realized that something was wrong. It was wrong in a way she could not immediately discern. She reached underneath her pillow, fingers aching to close around the dagger she had taken to keeping there. There was nothing.

Trying not to panic, she brought her hands across the bed clothing, searching. Still nothing. Her dagger was gone.

She slipped from bed, quiet as a mouse across the stone. A candle burned on the table and nothing looked right. She was in Winterfell, in the very room she had fallen asleep in, and yet all around her was unfamiliarity.

When she went to her wardrobe to dress, she was met with a colorful array of soft gowns, most drawing clear inspiration from the southron fashions. She backed away, trying to make sense of what was happening, making it to the door before she realized she could not very well leave her chambers in her smallclothes. She picked the easiest to get into and dressed quickly, finally stepping into the hallway. Her head spun.

 

 

She found herself breathing hard before the heart tree, eyes squeezed shut. She must have been going mad for the ghosts she encountered in the castle before she could make her escape.

_It's not real. It's not real. It's not real._

Something in her was broken and she didn't know how to fix it.

She didn't know how long she sat there, cold seeping into her bones, before she finally found the courage to stand. Her tears were nearly frozen to her cheeks and she scrubbed them away. She would return to the castle with her head high like the competent leader she was. She had to. Everything would be right upon her return.

 

 

Only, nothing was. Things that ought to have been gone were still there. _People_ that ought to have been gone walked around as if the dead had any place among the living. The thought brought Jon to mind and her stomach sunk, as if she had betrayed him with the thought. But he wasn't dead, not anymore. Having died didn't make him dead and he belonged there, belonged next to her, ruling the North.

She pressed her hands to her face and imagined his. It felt as if she was going mad, but thinking of him made it less so. With him came a sense of safety.

As if her thinking had brought him forth, he stood before her when she removed her hands, eyebrows furrowed.

_But how?_

She ran forward and nearly jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face to his shoulder. When she didn't feel his arms come around her as well, she stiffened. Had something happened?

She pulled away, keeping her fingers firmly grasped in his cloak. "What is it? What's wrong? When did you _return_? What happened out there?"

He stared at her with clear confusion, seemingly unable to form any words.

"Jon?"

"How long have you been out here in this?" His gaze dropped to her thin gown. "Are you ill?"

She shook her head, then remembered the reason she was out there to begin with. Perhaps she _was_ ill. "I don't know," she admitted.

"You should see Maester Luwin."

An intense pain shot through her head and she winced deeply. It was hard to focus as the pain grew. "Master Luwin is dead," she managed to say. It didn't make any sense. Jon knew he was dead. The pain continued until she cried out. It was all consuming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I started this as a thought experiment and it went from there. The chapters will be in ranging length because what's consistency??
> 
> If anyone would like to be a beta and help me get a grasp on writing for such a time period / setting, please leave me a comment letting me know or message me on Tumblr @stardustloves-ao3.


	2. Jon I

Sansa dropped to the snow at Jon's feet and he stumbled back in shock before sense kicked in and he knelt before her. He slid a hand over her neck and felt it cold. There was no telling how long she had been out in the snow with barely a thing to clothe her. Still, he felt her blood beat there; a good sign. "Sansa?"

She didn't respond and he scooped her into his arms. With a grunt, he stood and began walking, almost running into a girl when he finally made it into the castle. The girl yelped and stared at him with wide eyes. "L-Lady Sansa?"

"Where is Maester Luwin?"

The girl managed to pull herself together quickly. "In the library."

He considered the distance, then said, "Tell him Lady Sansa has collapsed. I will bring her to her bedchambers."

"Right away," the girl answered and was quickly gone.

Jon brought his cousin to her chambers, ignoring the stares that were cast their way. They whispered as he passed. _Good_ , he thought. Word of her condition would spread like fire through the halls of the castle, saving him the trouble of finding each Stark himself.

He placed her on her bed and stared down at her, wondering at what she had said to him. When had he _returned_? He wanted to ask her when he had _left_. He had never been hugged so tightly in his life. She must have truly been ill to have had such a reaction to him.

She did not stir in her sleep even as Catelyn Stark rushed into the room, all but pushing Jon away from her to grasp her hand.

"What happened?" Lady Catelyn demanded, an icy, accusatory lilt to her voice.

"I don't know. She was outside. She ran to me, speaking things that made no sense, and then she fell."

Lady Catelyn's eyes did not move from her daughter. "Speaking things that made no sense?"

He hesitated, though he knew not why. "She seemed to think I had left Winterfell. She asked me what happened 'out there.'"

Maester Luwin came into the bedchambers, asking immediately what had happened. Jon repeated himself and saw himself out when he had no further information to give.

He tried to go through his day as he normally would. Lady Sansa had fallen ill, but it is not as if they were close. He could find little sympathy within him for the girl who had not genuinely smiled at him since she was three, who treated him since as she might a persistent stain on her favorite dress.

Still, his mind could not help but to wander to her again and again. The way she had looked when she first saw him, how her face was suffused with such joy, was a mystery. It shamed him to admit it to himself, but the more he thought on it, the more he wanted it to be genuine. Winning his cousin's affection was not within the realms of reality. It seemed as pointless a task as trying to win the affection of her mother. The two would never warm to him, never accept him as true family, no matter what he did. He thought he had long ago put to rest those silly, boy-like wishes, had burned them out with his own bitterness. It was unfair that it should all come so undone by a single smile and hug.

Anger rose in him and he pushed the feelings away. He would not allow those foolish fantasies to take root in him again. He was tired of letting his sense of self worth rest within the hands of others.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic comes from the song [The World Spins Madly On](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/weepies/worldspinsmadlyon.html). Forgot to say that before.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Also I totally ACCIDENTALLY published this chapter while trying to edit it. I'm facepalming myself into eternity.**


	3. Sansa II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: the "persistent stain" quote, there is no use being mad at a stain. A stain is simply a stain and cannot change its nature. However, it still isn't pleasant or welcomed, just something you must deal with. She wasn't _mean_ to Jon, but she didn't care for him.

Sansa peeled her eyelids open to a wet cloth passing over her face. Her sight adjusted and she saw her mother leaning over her, worry written across her features.  _No. No. She's not here._  Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to cry. What was wrong with her? She hoped the vision would be gone when she opened them again, but Tully blue eyes continued to look down at her.

"Sansa? How are you feeling?"

The voice sent a hard shock through her and tears spilled over her face. "Mother?" Her voice broke as she spoke the word.

"Yes, sweetling." Mother brushed her hair back from her forehead gently. "You fainted."

Sansa could scarce see through her tears as she pushed herself up and flung herself into her mother's arms. She cried until no tears would come, until her voice and strength had gone from her. "I don't understand," she said weakly, over and over, until she finally fell back into an exhausted sleep.

 

 

When next she woke, her mother was gone. It was both relief and grief at once. What she would have given to have her mother hold her once again.

She sat up and met an unfamiliar pair of eyes, a maid by the looks of it.

"Lady Sansa!" the girl said. "I will get Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin right away."

Her breath was stolen from her with the words and the girl left with haste. Sansa stared blankly until the door reopened and her mother was once again at her side. Too numb and confused and tired to do much else, she let them do as they wished. Hand to her face, her head, a cup to her mouth, questions she answered without thinking.

"I don't know what's happening," she said, somehow finding more tears within herself. "I don't—"

She curled into herself, desperately wishing for the world to right itself again. A gentle hand ran over her hair, attempting to comfort her. Steeling herself, she looked up and met her mother's anxious gaze. "I wish to speak to Jon."

Mother's face flashed honest confusion. "But why?"

"Please." She felt as if she were breaking into a million pieces. "Please, just—"

Mother nodded, face hardening, and she turned to the maid. "Find Jon Snow and bring him here."

The maid was off again. While she waited, Sansa leaned into her mother, who sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the strong heartbeat beneath her ear.

When the maid returned with Jon in tow, Sansa asked that everyone leave the room. Mother protested, but the look on her daughter's face must have convinced her at last. She promised to be just outside, expression cold as she met Jon's eyes before she left.

Alone, Sansa finally looked at him, truly looked. He was more clean shaven. The scars on his face were gone. He looked more vulnerable, if not more approachable. He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable with her attention, waiting for her to speak. But what could she say? It was clear to her now: this was not her Jon. This was not her life.

And yet she needed to tell someone. Whether her Jon or another, she knew him. She knew that he was trustworthy and she wouldn't deny that his presence still made her feel safer.

She moved over on the bed. "Please, sit."

His eyes narrowed, but he sat.

"I know you are confused. So am I. And I know, by the time you leave this room, that I will likely sound to you a raving madwoman."

He got a look about him as if he already did and was tempted to say so, but he did not. "All right."

"Firstly, I need you to tell me about your life. About— About my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapters are so short. I'm just too busy to be worrying about the word count. I hope you don't mind too awful much. And for everyone wondering over Jon knowing his parentage, it will be explained in time, as will what has been changed in this timeline from the original.


	4. Catelyn I

Catelyn stood outside her daughter's bedchambers and closed her eyes, trying to tamper down her worry. Maester Luwin had departed a half hour ago and still Jon Snow had not come out. She could not fathom why Sansa would wish to speak to him, especially at such length. Unlike the rest of her children, Sansa had never been close to Jon. Yet the look on her face when Jon had entered the room was that of sweet relief.

It seemed impossible that they would have grown closer without her knowing. She prided herself on her attentiveness, especially where her children were concerned. There had been no signs of anything changing between the two. Even if there had been, why would she have wished to see Jon over the rest of her family? What had she needed to discuss that could not be said in the presence of her mother?

Catelyn was pulled from her musings as her husband and eldest son entered the hallway. Their idle conversation halted when they saw her, expressions confused as they approached.

"What keeps you from her chambers?" Ned asked and placed a hand on her arm. With Jon Snow so recently in her mind, it was an unwelcome touch.

"She requested a private audience with Jon Snow," she said, keeping her voice level, watching the both of them for an indication that they may know why. Instead, their eyebrows raised in surprise and gave her nothing.

"With Jon?" Robb asked, staring at the door as if it might answer in Sansa's place. "Why? What are they talking about?"

"You are to be a king one day," Ned said to him and dropped his hand from Catelyn's arm. He always had been good at reading her moods, something she usually appreciated.

"Aye, I am," Robb answered slowly, turning his confused gaze to his father.

"I hope you do a better job of paying mind to a situation when that day comes. Sansa sought a _private_ audience with Jon. Your mother waits _outside_ the door. Do you think she can give you an answer to those questions?"

Robb bowed his head just so and looked to her. "Sorry, Mother."

Ned gave him a barely visible smile, clearly fond of their son even in his missteps, then asked a question that she could answer. "How is she?"

Worry curled around Catelyn tightly as she recalled the past hours with her daughter. "She is shaken."

Ned nodded, likely having expected as much, but she stilled the movement with a look into his eyes.

"She is more shaken than I have seen since she returned to us from King's Landing. She cried in my arms until sleep took her."

Ned's brow crinkled in concern and Robb looked almost ready to break the door down to get to his sister.

"When she woke, it was as if all the life had gone out of her. She kept saying that she didn't understand."

"What didn't she understand?" Robb asked and Catelyn frowned.

"Your guess would be just as well as mine. After some time, she began to cry again and then she asked for Jon. She wouldn't tell me why, but the look of her, Ned." She drew a breath, fortifying herself against the memory. "She looked so lost and desperate."

They stood in silence and bore the weight of the situation. Catelyn wished she knew how to help, but she could not even begin to know what was wrong.

As the minutes dragged by, her son grew more and more restless, shifting from foot to foot.

He finally huffed in impatience. "What could they possibly be talking about in there?"

Catelyn understood his unease and she felt it herself. More so, considering just who it was that monopolized her daughter's attention.

Robb knocked on the door. "Sansa? It's Robb. Father is out here as well. May we enter?" They waited with bated breath on an answer that didn't come. Robb's frown deepened, but he did not knock again. He called her name once more and the pause was much shorter before Sansa's voice came through the door.

"Yes, you may enter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost considered editing the first three chapters to present tense before I wrote this one, but I was too lazy. I'd like to torture myself with all future chapters, I guess.
> 
> I'd also like to say that I'm taking requests on [my blog](http://stardustloves-ao3.tumblr.com/) for [icons](http://stardustloves-ao3.tumblr.com/icons), [headers](http://stardustloves-ao3.tumblr.com/headers), [gifs](http://stardustloves-ao3.tumblr.com/tagged/mine), and drabbles. Just send me a message!


	5. Robb I

Robb opened the door as soon as the words were out of his little sister's mouth. He entered the bedchambers with his mother and father behind him and stopped so short that they almost collided with his back.

"Sorry," he murmured, eyebrows high as he processed the scene. Jon stood at the side of the bed and one of Sansa's hands was curled in his sleeve, as if to keep him there, the other holding her furs to her chest tightly. They stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. She seemed to plead with him, though of what Robb could not imagine.

Finally, Sansa looked up and tears welled in her eyes before falling down her cheeks. Her hand slackened enough for Jon to pull himself from her grip and he slipped from the room without a word to any one of them. It did not matter all too much to Robb, who was more concerned with his sister's distress.

She was still as he approached, though her gaze flit between his and Father's. She seemed almost scared of them and it made his steps hesitant. His dear Sansa? Scared of him and Father? He could not think of a sickness that would make it so.

When he reached her, she let him take hold of her hands. He gave them a light squeeze and she squeezed back, a small comfort. "Are you well, Sansa?"

She nodded and used the hold to leverage herself onto her knees. She stared at him for a long moment before finally taking her hands out of his to wrap them around him. Her sobs came silently, but he could feel her shake against him. He held her and stroked her back soothingly, sharing a look with Father over his shoulder. Mother spoke truthfully about Sansa's state. He had thought not to see her like this since the day she returned to them. He had promised she would never haven reason to. It struck him then that he had failed her and not even known it.

"What happened?" he asked gently, but she only shook her head in response, refusing to answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

 _Sorry for what?_ he thought in disbelief. “What have you to be sorry for?”

She didn't respond and he thought it best not to press her on the matter. They were close, after all. If she wished to, she would tell him in her own time. He held her until she calmed down. When she pulled away, she reached for Father, who stepped into Robb's place and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace.

Mother looked on with sorrowful eyes and he could tell how much it hurt her to see Sansa as such.

After the theatrics, Sansa finally sat back down, legs tucked beneath her. "I'm sorry for acting so strangely," she said, looking at them all in turn.

"It's all right," he said and received a small smile in thanks.

"After I fainted..." She hesitated. "I dreamt that I lost you all. It was more real than anything I've known."

Mother tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. "We are all here, love. You have not lost us."

Sansa smiled, but did not look convinced. Robb was sure she was holding something back. He wanted to ask her what had really happened to her and what she and Jon had spoken of. He was her favorite brother, he knew, and he was certain she trusted him enough to confide in him. Still, he would not ask now. At the next chance he had to speak to her alone, he would do so. For the moment, he kissed her on the crown of her head and told her all would be well. _I swear it._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I know you're probably wondering about what Jon told Sansa and what passed between them when Robb entered the room, but you must have patience. In due time, starlights. In due time.
> 
> Also, I wrote a little [Jon/Sansa drabble](https://stardustloves-ao3.tumblr.com/post/173657243828/) on my Tumblr, if you'd like to read it. :) A few hundred words of canon fluff.


	6. Jon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. I have my reasons, but I don't think anyone would really care to hear them. In any case, I haven't abandoned this story by any means. And if you've come from my previous chapter and found the links not working, it's because I deleted my account in a moment of impulsiveness. I don't really regret it, but it did delete the little jonsa drabble I did there, so (with the help of the wayback machine) I'm going to just post it here on AO3.

Jon walked slowly, thinking over his conversation with Sansa. To have him so fully explain out events that they had already gone through was baffling. He would have thought she hit her head hard enough to lose her memories, as he had heard of such instances before, but that hadn't seemed to be the case. As he had tentatively begun answering her questions about their lives, she had looked as if she were solving a perplexing riddle. She was not out of sorts or without knowledge of people or places.

Stranger even than that was how differently she had behaved toward him. From how she spoke and looked at him to the way she had grasped at his arm as if she were afraid to let him go was unsettling. However, it was her plea for him to promise to talk with her again on the morrow was the most disquieting of all.

"Jon."

He looked up as the voice tore him from his thoughts. Arya stared up at him with raised eyebrows and he reached out automatically to muss her hair. "Did you run away from the septa again?"

She smiled, looking as innocent as she knew how, which was to say not very innocent at all. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t visit Sansa?”

He smiled in amusement, but the feeling faded quickly.

His cousin frowned in turn. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Just worried, is all.”

“Worried about Sansa?” She scrunched her face up as if the idea brought with it an unpleasant smell. "You?"

“Aye.” It was the truth, more or less. He was concerned, in any case, about what was going on with her and where he fit into that.

Arya stared at him for a few heartbeats before sobering as she realized that his feelings were true. “Is she all right?”

The last thing he had wanted to do was to make Arya upset. As often as she and Sansa fought, she knew that Arya still cared for her sister. Plus, their relationship had even seemed to get better after the war. Jon placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting smile. “She’ll be fine.”

“If she’ll be fine, then why are you so worried?”

“Sometimes, you can’t help but worry about someone, even when you know they’ll be fine. Do you think your mother ever stops worrying about you?”

"Probably not for an instant," she answered. After a pause, she let out a small laugh, though only the Gods could know why.

“Go on, little sister, go see her before the septa finds you wandering the halls.”

She bounced on her feet slightly before weaving around him and he continued on his way. His mind focused again on the look in Sansa's eyes and she made him promise to meet her in the Godswood after breaking their fast. There was a desperation there that seemed completely at odds with their peaceful surroundings. He had seen that look on men, women, and children alike during the war, but not since.

There was also the matter of the look Robb had given him while entering Sansa's chambers. It assured him of an interrogation at the earliest convenience. Would he tell Robb the truth, he wondered. Sansa had asked for him not to share a word of their talk to anyone else. Jon had not given his word on that end, but he felt bound all the same. He would find no answers thinking by himself. He decided to put the thoughts aside. Perhaps some sparring would help to distract him.

 

 


	7. Catelyn II

Sansa had only finally calmed down when Arya called through the door that she was coming in and immediately opened it. She stopped short at the sight in front of her, clearly having expected Sansa to have been alone. Catelyn stilled, expecting another round of hysterics, but none came.

Her eldest daughter looked at her sister steadily. "Arya."

“Sansa,” Arya returned. “I heard you fainted.”

“Yes. That’s what I heard too.”

Arya finally moved into action and shut the door behind her to lean against it with arms crossed. Catelyn wished, not for the first time, that she took more after her sister. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa answered. There was something of her tone that unsettled her mother for reasons unknown. Catelyn couldn't help but to feel as if something wasn't quite right.

Arya quirked an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak when Ned cut in. "Does Septa Mordane know you're here, little lady?" There was amusement in his voice, as there always was when he talked to Arya. She needed a firmer hand from her father if she was ever going to become more refined, but Ned's soft spot for her made it impossible.

“The septa let me off lessons to see my sister,” Arya said with a wolfish, self-satisfied grin. It was clear, by the way she turned the grin on her sister, that she expected Sansa's disapproval.

Instead, Sansa smiled at her as if they were partners in the same conspiracy. "How fortunate my fainting is for you."

It took not only Arya by surprise, but Catelyn as well. She caught Ned's curious eyes and saw that he had not foreseen such a response either.

“I’m sure you can miss one day,” Sansa continued. “Is it really that much more entertaining to be stuck sitting in here though?”

Arya shook off her uncertainty and shrugged. “Can’t be any worse, that’s for sure.”

"Well, have fun being stuck sitting in here, then," Robb said, giving the two a bemused smile. "It's about time Father and I return to our duties."

"We'll try not to kill each other while you're gone," Sansa answered. Gone was the constant weeping, replaced now by a jovial mood.

Ned nodded at Catelyn and the two took their leave together while Arya relocated to her sister's bed. She climbed on top of the covers with her shoes on and still Sansa seemed unbothered.

“Tell me a story," she said, finding a more comfortable position against her pillows.

“A story?” Arya looked dubious. “Like one of old nan’s tales?”

“No, one of your own. While I was stuck in King’s Landing, you got away. Tell me about it.”

"Why?"

Sansa sighed in a put about way. "Because I want to hear it. From the time Father was in the dungeons to when the Hound and I found you."

Arya glanced hesitantly at Catelyn. While the situation was peculiar, it would do well not to interrupt the few bonding moments her daughters shared, and she understood that there were some things children do not wish to speak of to their parents.

“I’ll be back,” she said gently, patting Sansa’s hand. Sansa nodded gratefully as she stood to exit the room.

"I know how it's going to sound, but I'm telling the truth," Arya started as Catelyn reached the opposite side of the chambers.

"Trust me, you're be surprised by the things I believe."

Catelyn closed the door behind her, giving her girls their privacy. With Sansa in such better spirits, some of her worry had ebbed, though she wasn't wholly convinced that they wouldn't resort to fighting within minutes of being alone. Or perhaps she was giving them too little credit. They had grown a great deal in the past few years, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sansa and jon povs are coming next :)


End file.
